


Let me be your freedom

by Calire



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, M/M, Romance, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calire/pseuds/Calire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason if Greg choose to help Sherlock. And it's that he knew his older brother already, because they had been together as boys.<br/>Greg had barely started working in the Met and Mycroft had just finished school when they met at a rather weird Sunday lunch and got together through the ordeals of their friends. But that wasn't their time. Their ways parted and it took them a "consulting detective" to find each other again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me be your freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This story has brewed in my brain for almost nine months, taking a life of its own as the plot got more detailed every day, so it's really time I start putting it out there to share with everyone who might be interested in it.  
> I have to thank my amazing boyfriend and Sherlocked_Moriartied who beta'd it and keep supporting me in this project :)

**July 1991**  
Mycroft had come back a few days ago from the boarding school for his last summer before college.  
In the last year school had offered him a high number of occasions to explore his sexuality.  
He wasn’t stupid: he had noticed already how his eyes lingered on a few of his classmates and how the thought of losing sleep to go and bother the girls at the nearby school didn’t attract him in the least, but he had simply never worried himself with it.  
Things had changed when a classmate had paid him that sort of attention and he had found himself in the need of taking a decision.  
Following his passion for the study of human behaviour, he had decided to humor his instincts and experiment.  
It had confirmed his attraction to the male body: Adrien’s musky scent, his bony chest and short hair had pushed all the right buttons for him. Their hasty encounters between periods or late at night in the Prefect’s bathrooms had been glorious highlights through the whole school year.  
Now Mycroft wanted to know how it worked in the real world, outside those relatively safe walls.  
Using his usual approach to a new matter he had searched all the information he could find about London’s gay life and had been mildly disappointed in discovering that there wasn’t really much about it, at least not in the mainstream channels.  
It was quite obvious actually, since no one liked to talk about it in his kind of family and schools, and when they did the terms weren’t endearing.

He had read a few psychological studies on the matter, but it wasn’t enough. He needed a different point of view; what he truly wanted was an anthropological study on London’s gay community; he wanted to know the archetypes of people he was going to meet.

That’s why on a bright Monday morning, taking advantage of his mother’s busy schedule, he got ready and left just ten minutes after her.

He walked to Highgate station and resigned to take the tube down to Leicester Square since a cab was risky when it came to leaving traces: if he didn’t use their family account his taking money for the cab  would have sounded suspicious, while if he did his father would obviously know where he was going and that couldn’t happen. His parents wouldn’t even let him back home if they as much suspected he had set foot there.

Mycroft was tapping his foot nervously while the train moved quickly from one station to the other.   
As much as he was forcing himself to take this as an experiment, even though he just intended to observe, there was a chance someone would ask questions and be curious about his tiny notebook.   
And what would he do if someone were to approach him for entirely different reasons? Would he deny his orientation? Declare he was simply curious, a student getting ready for his first year with too much free time on his hands? Or would he politely decline any offer like he did with the girls his mother forced him to meet during the holidays? Maybe the latter was a better option for the sake of his study. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and even less for quick encounters, not with the AIDS plague looming over them! It had been tiring enough convincing his younger friend to wear a condom during blowjobs, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to dwell with an older man or simply a stubborn teenager.  
The boy looked around stepping out of the metro station: that place his father’s papers described as ground of perdition was nothing different from another borough of London, at least not at nine in the morning. There were people shopping at Tesco and cafes swarming with activity. Something was different, though: men and women sauntering hand in hand with their same sex partners without worry and, as he started strolling around, a couple of the shops made him blush.  
He walked for something like half an hour, taking in every detail he could. He despised any kind of physical activity and his goal was to reduce it as much as possible. In the end he eyed a nice cafe and took a seat in the corner with his cup of tea and his notebook.  
After something like ten minutes he could feel eyes on himself and he hated it.   
He straightned his back subtly and raised his head casually looking out the window, yet glancing sideways to find out who was eying him.   
He caught three boys confabulating: they were around 25 or 26 years old, two of them were a couple.   
It wasn’t long before the couple approached him and he elegantly turned towards them “So, what’s a posh little bird doing around here, uh?” the youngest asked.

He was blond, with deep blue eyes and positively beautiful. His partner was a dark haired man, shorter than him and decidedly less dishy, but with a kind smile.

Mycroft clicked shut his pen and rested his hands on the notebook “I’m an anthropology student with too much time on my hands, waiting for college to start.” that answer seemed the safest for that situation.

The single approached his table too, folding his arms and intimidating the teenager slightly with his heavy frame “What? You’ve come to see the animals at the zoo?”

The shorter man put a hand on his shoulder “Come on now, Jack. Don’t be so rude. I do believe our little friend here is off to some kind of much more personal research.”

“So, is he right?” the blond man asked with a small smirk as he caught one of the other chairs from around the table and sat, leaning towards the boy.

Mycroft couldn’t help but squirm. He hadn’t expected all that attention, although looking at the other men it wasn’t difficult to know why he had attracted it.   
Jack had a tight fitting t-shirt and a leather jacket, the blond man was wearing a loose t-shirt with some band logo on it and the third man wore a bright blue shirt.   
The boy was instead clad in a dark grey polo, blue cotton trousers and matching sport jacket, sporting a grey silk pocket handkerchief from his front pocket.   
He should have thought about blending in: it was the first rule for an anthropologist, but he didn’t even have different clothes in his wardrobe.

“I’m not searching for any kind of relationship, if that’s what you’re implying. I want to know who I could meet, how it works. I just want to have a look around at my terms.” he explained quietly, keeping his nerves under control the way he had been taught since he was nothing more than a child.

The dark haired man extended his hand, showing that kind smile again “Well, then you might use a friend or two. I’m Tony, the giant here is Jack and he’s my boyfriend Miller.” he pointed to the other men with his free hand.

Surely a friendship’s offer was the last thing he would have seen coming.   
No one ever tried so quickly to approach him; in his usual rounds people were much more discreet.   
To add to that he was mostly an introvert, information his father was always quick to complain about with his own friends and associates. That’s why, even knowing a ton of people due to the kind of life his parents forced him into, he didn’t have any friend. Those situations never put him at ease enough for him to actually try and share something significant about his passions. And, if he had had to be honest, he didn’t have any interest in small talk.

The boy shook the hand confidently, showing his best polite smile “Mycroft, pleased to meet you.”

Miller’s eyes flew open “You really are a posh little bird, aren’t you. Even your name sounds posh... but I like it. I do.” the young man grinned widely.

Mycroft smiled shyly at the unusual compliment as he relaxed in his seat.   
Without even realizing it almost another hour went by just talking with the three men about their interests, their lives, the life in Soho and everything in between. They did most of the talking as the student listened and took a few notes, fewer and fewer as time went by.

Although when the door opened and a young constable with a motorbike helmet made his way inside, Mycroft tensed as his eyes darted to the man.   
He got rid of the helmet while he stepped in, revealing a head full of dark brown hair, and put it down on one of the stools before taking off his jacket.

The boy was getting more and more nervous every second the cop was there and he had to be showing it, because both Miller and Tony turned towards the door and Jack laughed loudly.

“Oi! Don’t you worry, little sparrow, Greg is one of us! He’s always around keeping an eye on things when he can so no one gets hurt!” the big man reassured him before he flashed a knowing smirk over to the other two “Well, when he isn’t trying to cop off. He surely gets his fun around the clubs.”

Mycroft relaxed again, but didn’t reply and quickly managed to get Miller back to the topic of his coming out to his parents five years before, just as he was about to move to London.   
Yet he found himself eying the constable far too often. He couldn’t even fantasize about such a charming man, it would make him incautious and, after all, it was definitely a hopeless task. He wasn’t in search of a boyfriend and he surely wouldn’t waste his time chasing after someone who was clearly unattainable for him.

At eleven thirty Mycroft got up, embarrassed and excited at the same time when the other men sincerely didn’t want him to leave, but he was feeling guilty enough for leaving Sherlock alone the whole morning to really consider staying over for lunch like they asked him to. And he didn’t have any excuse good enough for his parents.

Tony handed him a business card just as he was about to head for the door “We have lunch with some friends every Sunday, please come. Come every time you like.”

Mycroft bit his lip, but took the card swiftly. He seriously doubted he’d ever be able to go there, but he wanted a link. He didn’t want to let go of what had been his best social experience so far.

When he got home, wiping the smile from his face before someone could suspect a thing, he was welcomed by his father waiting sternly for him in the sitting room.

That couldn’t be good. Not a chance.

He straightened his back and tried to appear the least guilty as possible “Good morning, Daddy.” he greeted, bowing his head a little.

Sieger folded the paper he was reading only a good minute after his son had entered the room, moving deliberately slowly simply to affirm his dominance “Where were you?” he asked curtly.

Mycroft swallowed, but he had a reply ready “Just a constitutional. I’ve spent the morning at the park, studying.”

The man raised an eyebrow “Since you’ve studied this morning already I’m sure you can spend the afternoon with your brother. Helping him put his room back together after he almost set it on fire!” he fumed, shooting daggers at the boy.

His eyes flew open and he felt utterly stupid. He shouldn’t have left Sherlock alone for so long without clear instructions. The maid wasn’t able to oversee him properly, not anymore. “I’m sorry, I’ve been imprudent.” he apologized.

Sieger nodded “You definitely have been. I appreciate if you suddenly decided it’s time to discipline yourself and reach an acceptable weight, but if you leave the house your brother comes with you.”

There it was, Mycroft’s other terrible fault, the detail his father never missed to highlight every time he was given the chance. His weight. Mycroft had been a chubby child and an overweight teenager. He wasn’t certainly obese, but still too soft for Siger Holmes’ standards. After all the man was lean and tall, while the boy had ended up with his mother’s body type. Heavy bones and easily gained weight.

He nodded, hiding the disappointment in his eyes “Yes, Daddy.” and there they went all his hopes of going back to Soho.

“Lunch in thirty. Go change, you surely don’t want to eat in those dirty clothes, do you?”

His father’s harsh voice had him realize he was standing there like an idiot.

Shaking himself out of that reverie he nodded again and squared up, leaving the room and heading for the stairs.

Sieger was right, Sherlock evidently set something on fire because walking in front of his room his nostrils burned with the smell of smoke and chemicals.

Mycroft sighed, got in his own room and closed the door behind himself. He didn’t have it in him to deal with his devilish little brother. Not in that instant.

He hadn’t been a jealous brother, it wasn’t like their parents ever paid much attention to either of them. If anything he had tried to keep Sherlock from his father’s wrath as often as possible: preventing him from making other kids at parties cry, trying to give him simple lists of things that weren’t appropriate to do at school, giving him books and keeping him busy.

Obviously being sent away almost nine months a year since the child was four didn’t make anything easier, but he remained the only person he listened to.

Not least because Sherlock knew that Mycroft, although often mocked by him, never made their father angry and took him as example every time he could manage it.

Mycroft shed his jacket and the polo followed right after. In the bathroom he stood in front of the mirror for almost five minutes, pinching at his fat with the usual disgust. Yet, as much as he didn’t like himself he didn’t really have enough motive to change. Getting closer to his reflection he ran one finger down his hooked nose. Even if he did lose weight he would never be as attractive as Miller nor adorable like Tony was, so why bother?

After he eventually washed and put on a light blue shirt, the boy took a deep breath, getting ready to confront Sherlock.

The maid was cleaning thoroughly the desk. Glancing in the bin Mycroft could see broken glasses and ashes. He recognized the cover of the Chemistry textbook he had given Sherlock a few months back.

The child was sulking sat in the window sill, but his brother could tell he had had some bad moments.

“You should pay more attention when measuring the solute. Very small variations can cause unexpected reactions.” Mycroft commented casually, looking out of the window. He had identified the chemicals his brother had used since he could recall quite clearly when the same thing had happened in his Chemistry class.

Sherlock folded his arms, lips tightening in a firm line. His eyebrows had been burned away and his usually pink cheeks and pale neck were angry red. In that moment the older boy realized how much worse this could have gone and barely retained a sigh. “No use sulking. You know I’m right.” he reprimanded instead.

“I wouldn’t have got it wrong if I had had a proper scale!” the boy complained, still keeping his eyes fixed at the garden.

Mycroft rolled his eyes “If you knew your equipment wasn’t adequate you shouldn’t have tried the experiment. Even if it was a basic one.”

Sherlock didn’t answer, he hated feeling on the losing side because it gave him weird feelings he couldn’t really place.

“Did you feel that pull at the pit of your stomach? The one that makes your eyes wet?” the older boy asked in a softer tone, feeling that the child was ready to go past their usual sparring.

“Yes, that one. And my heart rate was increased.” he confirmed rather flatly.

Mycroft nodded “It is a fear triggered response that sets your body for fleeing or fighting. Alerts you that something is very wrong.” he paused for a second  “What did you do?”

“At first I screamed, but then I reached for the fire extinguisher and partly put it out until Cook and Jenny came in.”

The older brother couldn’t hold back a smile and squeezed lightly Sherlock’s shoulder “Very well done, Sherlock. You didn’t let the panic get the best of you.”

The flash of a beaming smile that rewarded him was more than he could ask for.

“Where were you, Mycroft?” the light voice sounded weirdly full of doubt.

“Out for a walk in the park, I studied there some. I’m sorry I left without warning.” when he noticed the look in his brother’s eyes Mycroft knew he was done for, at least with Jenny.

“It’s not true. You don’t have dirt on your trousers. Not from the park.” Sherlock remarked petulantly.

The girl showed surprise and then giggled, shutting up as soon as Mycroft looked at her “This is neither the place nor the time for this conversation. Let’s go have lunch.”

Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes, but followed him obediently out of the room.

  
Later that evening Mycroft was tidying up his notes.   
He had done a terrible job with the interviews; he needed to put together a proper list of questions so that he could compare the answers, but after all, why bother? It wasn’t like he could bring Sherlock along and he couldn’t leave without him for explicit order of his father, disobeying that would be madness.

As he heard footsteps outside his bedroom door he sighed, putting away his work and focusing on the text book he had kept open beneath the notebook as a quick cover.

The boy recognized easily his mother’s knock and called her in not without a pang of anxiety: the rather short woman made her way inside carring a small tray with two cups of tea and a smile that, for those who knew her, didn’t promise anything good.

“Oh, Mycroft dear. You shouldn’t be studying this late at night.” she tutted putting the tray on the chess table and sitting down in the armchair by it “Especially not while on holiday.”

He sighed but didn’t roll his eyes “I enjoy it, Mummy. And I prefer having some advantage when I start college.”

Violet smiled and shook her head “As you wish. But now you get a tea with your mother.” her tone was sweet as honey but deadly final too.

Mycroft poured her some milk and added the two spoons of sugar he knew she liked “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked with the tiniest smirk that hid his nervousness. His mother never brought him tea. His mother never talked to him beside from pestering him about finding a nice girl to court. Even though he was only seventeen.

The woman scolded him “Now now. Can’t a mother want to spend some time with her son?” she elegantly took the cup with the saucer and drank in small sips.

The boy on his side didn’t answer. He had been taught to always respect the woman in every possible aspect. Always. Although often applying the -if you can’t be nice, be silent- rule. He filled that pause fixing his own tea and quickly busied his mouth with the beverage.

That seemed enough to make Violet go on “There’s some buzz in the kitchen. Leanne told me Jenny heard an interesting conversation between you and your brother.” her tone was light, but her eyes were gleaming with curiosity “Is there someone you should tell me about?”

And there, in that winking look he was given, Mycroft found his way out of this. The perfect way to keep his research going.

He feigned embarrassment and looked away from her, staring at his cup “What are you talking about?”

Violet glanced at him knowingly from over the cup as she drank slowly “Oh, dear. You weren’t at the park, that’s what I heard. So, where were you? Is she nice?”

The boy kept averting her gaze to enforce her believes “Oh... I simply met a friend at that cafè two streets from here.” he had to stay the most vague as possible.

At her next question he could feel the woman getting impatient “A girl, Mycroft?”

Finally he sighed and nodded “Yes. A girl. But please, Mummy, I really don’t wish to discuss this.”

Her eyebrows shot up “So you don’t mess up on purpose with the girls I introduce you to. You truly are that incapable.” she quipped.

Mycroft raised his head immediately. He was aware his mother wasn’t exactly the kindest person ever, but that was just mean. He had to bit his tongue not to reply, instead he used his indignation to add quickly “It went fine, Mummy! I just want to keep things quiet until I know her a little better.”

Violet rolled her eyes “This is ridiculous, Mycroft. But I wouldn’t want to ruin this miracle. When do you plan on meeting her again?” she suddenly seemed quite bored. It was obvious her son hadn’t sated her curiosity and he knew he could use that hunger at his advantage.

“On Sunday? I’d like to bring her out to lunch.” he dared. It was a long shot, the Sundays were usually spent at home after the Mass, enjoying a family lunch around two hours long that threatened to kill Sherlock every time.

Violet raised an eyebrow “Only if you don’t plan on skipping the Mass.” apparently not even the perspective of a girlfriend exonerated him from the service.

Mycroft nodded when he finished his tea “Of course I can plan accordingly. Thank you, Mummy.” he was about to get up and collect the tray, but a thought pinned him there “What about Sherlock? Daddy has been quite clear about him this morning.”

The woman chuckled and got to her feet “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll handle him on the matter. You simply make sure to warn me when you plan on going out so that I can be sure not to leave your brother alone.”  
The boy shot her a grateful smile, taking the tray before she could “Do please let me take this to the kitchen. Have a good night.” he bent to kiss her cheek and left the room after his mother.

  


In Mycroft’s opinion Sunday couldn’t come too soon and yet he had almost backed out of it twice, but he wasn’t going to let his damned shyness ruin this for him.

On Sunday morning Mycroft got in his best attire and let for the church with his family, Sherlock kept moving about and complaining for half the mass until Sieger got up and escorted him out by his ear. The eldest brother followed them without a word, stopping at the entrance to the backyard just in time to catch the child lying on their father’s knees as the man spanked him through the trousers.   
The kid was a blank mask, no pain or anything else for that matter, just a shiny glint in his eyes betrayed the harshness of the punishment. When he was done Sieger got Sherlock to his feet again “Look at me, boy.” he instructed in his stern voice. He moved his eyes to the man, but Mycroft could see clearly that he wasn't interested in the least, the boredom was simply something he couldn't bear to go through. “Do we have to end like this every Sunday? You hare ungrateful and disrespectful. Keep this attitude going and on your eleventh birthday you'll only get to taste the cane!” he threatened. Sherlock didn't react and even though his brother could see a glimpse of sadness and confusion he didn't show it or get back at his father. It was useless and it only brought on more beatings, they both knew that.

Sieger got up and glanced at Mycroft who had got closer “Sit with him in the back and make sure he doesn’t embarrass us further.” at the order the boy simply dropped his gaze and nodded.

Once their father had left Mycroft put a hand on the child’s shoulder and steered him towards the church again.

“I don’t want to listen to this. It’s rubbish.” the high pitched voice came just as they were about to go in.

Mycroft got down on one knee and adjusted Sherlock’s jacket “I know, but it’s important for Mummy and Daddy. I told you before, Sherlock. You only have to sit still for an hour or so and Daddy won’t get mad.”

The kid folded his arms with a stubborn light in his eyes “But I get bored!”

“Hush now. We have to go in if we don’t want Daddy to get angrier.” he knew full well when to quit explanations with Sherlock and he simply dragged him in by the hand, sitting on the last bench.

After a minute or so he caught sight of the kid squirming, his teeth bothering his lower lip. Without a word he picked him up and sat him in his lap, it wasn't a pillow but it surely was better than the hardwood seat for his sore bottom.

Once they left the church it was time for him to go and he couldn’t deny the uncomfortable clench in his guts. When the cab pulled over he ruffled Sherlock’s hair, recommending him to behave one last time.

Mycroft got in the car and handed the card over to the driver, relaxing back in the seat. He wished he wasn’t wearing a suit and a tie, it was ridiculous for such an occasion, yet he didn’t tug the tie loose, if anything he straightened it out of habit.

The car stopped in front of a tall building: looking up, behind the wide attic windows he could see people moving about.

When he knocked at the door and a man he didn’t know opened the door he felt his heart in his throat; nonetheless he showed his best smile “I’m Mycroft, Tony and Miller invited me.”

The other man’s eyes widened in comprehension and he nodded, grinning at him “Oh, yeah, sure! Come in, I’m Jake!” he waved a hand, moving from the door to let him in.

Mycroft followed him without a word, observing him: he was younger than Tony, around 23 and it was obvious to the Holmes boy that he desperately tried to look older. The faint scent and the muscled arms suggested he worked as a delivery boy at some supermarket and he wasn’t from London.

As he filed away the information about him he moved his gaze over the room they had just entered: it was wide, a long table near the large windows, three sofas around a TV on the opposite side and a spacious kitchen divided from the living room only by a short wall. Behind a door near the sofas Mycroft guessed the bedroom could be found.

After checking his surroundings the boy shifted his focus on the noisy people scattered around the room.. Five men were slouched on he sofas, two were setting the table, two women and two men were busy in the kitchen.

Tony got up from the couch in a moment and patted his shoulder warmly “Hey! I’m so glad you could make it! There’s plenty of people I’d like you to meet.”

Mycroft froze for a moment; not entirely comfortable with the contact and not even sure how he was supposed to respond to that so he opted for breathing through it and smiling “Thank you again for the invitation.”

The man waved a hand and pulled the boy towards the sofa “Now. Jake, Miller and Jack you have met already. The other two are Greg and Allen.” he pointed respectively to the young man he had seen at the cafe in his police uniform and then to an older man “Boys, say hi to Mycroft! Come on, do behave for once.” Tony slapped the back of Miller’s head and the blond looked away from the TV “Oh, Mycroft! Hello!” after him Greg and Allen waved distractedly, looking back at the game on the telly right after.

Tony shook his head with a sigh “Forgive them. Their brains won’t be available for the next thirty minutes. Come, I’ll finish introducing you.”

Mycroft allowed himself a light chuckle and relaxed a bit as he met James and Steve.

In less than five minutes they ended up in the kitchen “Here we have Clara, Antonio, Carlo and Alice.”  
The woman called Alice smiled widely to him before showing him a knife and an onion “Can you chop the onions? If we don’t get going we won’t eat even by three o’ clock!”

“And what’s the problem with that?” Antonio retorted in a heavy Italian accent, a smirk curling his lips.

Mycroft blinked, trying to process the number of inputs he was receiving, he had never cooked an egg in his life, yet he uttered “I think I could...” Tony got in the way quickly “Let's avoid ending up at the A&E with some missing fingers, eh Alice?” he looked around and furrowed his brow “Is Anne still getting changed?” Alice shrugged “I guess, she was in her Sunday best.”

Carlo looked up from the pan “There she is. Anne! You're needed over to the chopping station.”

Mycroft followed the man's gaze and his eyes focused on the girl who was coming through the bedroom door.

The sight was so shocking that he actually was at loss of words and apparently so was the young woman, but she snapped out of the reverie much more quickly running through the room to have a better look at him “Fuck me! Mycroft! Mycroft Holmes! I would have never guessed!” the girl put a hand on his shoulder and he retrieved his ability to speak.

The boy bent trying to ignore the stunned silence around them, broken only by the telly, and he put a light kiss on her cheek “Anne, always a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted quietly, keeping his composure as much as he could.

They lived three streets away from each other and their mothers were in the same committee that took care of organizing every event in the neighborhood. And she was the last person he expected to meet there.

The small brunette chuckled and took him by the tie without so much as a thought “Oh, come now. We're not at Sir Blake's Christmas party. Nor are we in church.” Anne turned to Carlo with a grin “I'll get him comfortable and then I'll be back to help you and Antonio, don't worry.”

Mycroft followed her mostly to avoid ending up choked, but halfway towards the bedroom he tugged at the piece of clothing and straightened up when she let go “Do your parents know you're here?”

He was answered by a raised eyebrow “Why? Do yours?”

The boy chuckled lightly as they walked through the door, he couldn't deny her presence gave him a little bost of self confidence, there wasn't the risk of being reported and she was a familiar face.

He let her undo his tie and take the jacket “If you're planning on coming here often I'd advise you to leave a change of clothes so you don't have to keep your suit on for the whole day.”

Mycroft undid his collar button as he examined her clothes, a pair of loose fitting jeans and a cotton cardigan as opposed to the serious, chaste, deep blue dress that he had actually seen her wear back at the church “How long have you been coming here? I strongly doubt my mother will accept being kept in the dark about my supposed girlfriend very much longer.”

She smirked “Sometimes I have a friend from school covering for me, but I used the boyfriend one too. Anyway, about two months although I don’t come here all the Sundays. I’ve been with Clara roughly six months now and she studies Physics so we meet more at Uni than anything else. And sometimes we go out for shopping.” Anne air qoted the last two words.

Mycroft widened his eyes slightly “Oh, I see. Congratulations?” he smiled as the girl nodded.

“Yes, thank you. Are you with someone instead?”

The boy stiffened his stance a bit “No, definitely not. Shouldn’t we go back? They’ll be waiting.” speaking he took a couple of steps towards the door.  
Anne covered quickly the distance between them, putting a hand on his shoulder “Mycroft, we’re not at one of those posh parties our mothers put together. Relax.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow “When have I ever been known for relaxing?”  
The young woman laughed softly “I guess you’re right. So what brought you here then? How did you know Tony?”

Mycroft opened the door for her as he replied “I thought I’d practice a bit before going to Oxford in October, applying the basis of an anthropological research to Soho and its tropes.” his tone was quite serious like every time his future work was involved.

“So you’re basically feeling the water before diving in the pool or are we just experiment material?” her tone had shifted to a tougher one and she stopped him in the doorway.

This being the second time his motivations elicited a cold reaction Mycroft noted he would have to be more direct in explaining his motives. He gave her a gentle smile “The first kind of research. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The girl softened again fairly quickly “No offense taken, but you should remember that almost no one here has fond memories of people asking questions, they usually lead to nasty situations.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She slapped his shoulder as she started walking towards the kitchen again “Don’t be so serious! And, by the way, there’s nothing wrong with looking around before jumping on a cock!” and she couldn’t refrain from laughing as he blushed deep red.

Clara latched on her suddenly from behind, kissing her cheek “Don’t traumatize him, love. So, care to explain how do you know each other?”

Anne smiled as she leaned back in her arms “He lives three streets down from me and our mothers are friends. Simple as that.”

Mycroft confirmed her words with a nod but his gaze was slightly averted from the girls; he wasn’t used to such displays of affection an it made him nervous.

When Clara seemed to pick up on that and straightened up, just keeping one arm around Anne’s middle, he added “And we went to the same elementary school. Although you were a class ahead of me.”

A voice interrupted them “Anne! I’ll need the bloody onions in precisely two minutes!” it was Antonio calling over from the kitchen.

Anne rolled her eyes but turned to comply, pecking her girlfriend swiftly as she left. Clara, on her hand, linked their arms together and brought Mycroft to the table, drawing two chairs and sitting down beside him. “So, Mycroft. Tony was telling me you’re a student.”

The boy nodded “Yes. I’ll start college in October. Anthropology.” he looked over to her, she was older than Anne, calmer and seemingly very reflective in nature. He appreciated that.

“Yes, he mentioned that too. He added that you’re collecting some data?” she asked with a smile. It was obvious she was a scientist just by the choice of words and the fact she didn’t resent the boy for what he was doing.

Mycroft nodded again “Yes, Anne my have put it more bluntly, but I’m not one to jump in a new environment without the proper knowledge. Especially regarding the variety of people I might come in contact with, since I’m not exactly brilliant in social situations I’m not used to.”

He wasn’t sure why those people made it easier for him to talk. It probably had to do with the fact that when they asked a question they seemed genuinely interested in the answer.

Clara’s smile got almost maternal in its warmth “You seem to be doing fine here.”

He found himself shrugging, not something he did very often if at all “Well, I am quite trained by seventeen years of parties so I am capable of holding a conversation for a sufficient length of time. But I’m not an outgoing person and although seven years of boarding school got me a fair number of acquaintances, I can’t say I have ever made friend with someone.”   
It simply didn’t work for him: he was in good terms with most of the school but no one considered him his friend and the same went for him. He didn’t let people make fun of him, but no one stopped to listen to what he possibly had to say and he couldn’t be bothered to yell.

The woman reached out and gave his hand a squeeze “Their loss. So, have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Mycroft stiffened, both for the unexpected touch and the sort of private question, that usually didn’t happen in the league of people he met with. He actually had some doubts about answering that question sincerely, Adrien couldn’t possibly be considered a boyfriend and he very much preferred his existence to be kept in the dark. He breathed slowly and shook his head in the end “No, not really.” that was enough information already.

She narrowed her eyes for a second but didn’t press the matter “Well, there’s quite enough material for you to explore, here.”

The boy blushed slightly “Oh, I’m truly not interested at the moment, you know?”

“Okay then, just giving you a short briefing if you even want to talk to some of them.” she reassured him with a big smile “So, starting with the football aficionados there we have: Allen who’s the oldest and the straightest here. Greg answered his spousal abuse call last year when he was just a rookie and asked Tony to take him in for a couple of nights because his wife had him isolated from his family. He’s with Alice now and they’re getting married in six months.” her smile was the brightest Mycroft had ever seen.

The woman nodded at the dark haired boy who was drinking a beer directly from the can “He’s Greg, he’s 22 and he’s basically the sweetest douchebag you’ll ever meet. He’s stubborn as an arse but once he eventually slams his head in a wall he’ll very slowly ask for help. As I said before, he’s a police officer and he’s very committed to his work.”

Mycroft knew his eyes were lingering on him too much, but that nice description had him digging up all the thoughts he had given the constable over the week.

Nonetheless he drew his gaze away and regained control, ignoring the knowing look Clara gave him.

“Miller you know already. Jake I just know he works at a supermarket and goes around for clubs a lot. Probably not someone you want to know. He doesn’t even come here often.” she added, tapping her lips with a finger before moving to look over to the kitchen where she explained about Antonio and Carlo who got there from Italy when Antonio’s parents threw him out and Carlo got offered a job as Italian Literature professor atLondon University. Apparently they kept denying being a couple but no one ever believed them because they did all those things couples do together.

Mycroft almost wanted to ask what is that couples do together since he realized he had quite a vague idea about that, but it would have been embarrassing and he kept his mouth shut, glad that right then the game ended and lunch was ready.

That he was used to, the lunch was quite similar to any of the ones he had with his parents and their friends, only he was more involved in the conversations that were going on. He ended up sitting at the far end of the table, beside Clara. Jake took the seat across from him but he kept his gaze away from the older boy, talking mostly with Clara, Anne, Tony and Miller who were the closest to him.

He assisted Anne in telling some of the most absurd anecdotes about the kind of parties their mothers threw. He even found himself narrating about the time Sherlock pointed out that the cutlery at Jones’ was far from being silver because his wife was spending a terrible amount of money at the table and a few young women were worried they’d be allergic to anything that wasn’t silver. As the laughter subsided Miller cut in “Who's Sherlock? Your cousin?”

“He's my brother although we have seven years between us. He's quite a special boy...” Mycroft explained quietly, trying to justify what he saw as a terribly impolite action.

Anne had a wide grin on her face “That kid is amazing! Well, when he's not talking about you. Swear he can read your mind!”

The boy hated when they said those things about Sherlock, he knew Anne didn't mean to sound cruel but it made the child sound like a circus freak and he knew someone at school called him that already. “He's just very smart, he notices a lot more than other do and he doesn't exactly have much of a filter.” he tried to minimize, after all he could do the same thing, he simply didn't show off like the youngest did “He'll get better once he goes away for boarding school this October.” He didn't exactly believe it, but they didn't have to know that.

Clara flashed him with a warm smile “You must be a very sweet big brother.”

“Oh, sweet is the last term I'd apply to myself.” he answered with a small chuckle and was joined by Anne's laughter “Oh yes, you talk like that because you never saw them together, love.”

The two of them exchanged a knowing glance and were surprised to hear Tony exclaim “Oh my god! Oh my god! Guys, follow me here! Anne and Mycroft know each other since they were kids, their families are in good terms, they live very close: they'd be the perfect couple!”

Mycroft was slightly perplexed, but he watched the others' reactions first. And it seemed like they thought Tony to be an utter genius.

“You're right! It's the perfect beard and, as a bonus, no one's feelings get thrashed! What do you think, Anne?”

Mycroft was starting to get the hang of it although he wasn't familiar with the term, Anne's reply confirmed his theory “Oh, yes. My mother would be thrilled if I dated a Holmes! What about yours, Mycroft?”

The boy didn't even have to think about it, his mother would never believe it until he saw them together, Anne wasn't particularly beautiful but she surely was out of what Violet believed his son's league to be. And her father was a well respected surgeon who nothing had to envy from Sieger Holmes.

“Oh, she wouldn't even believe it, actually. But it would make her the happiest woman in London.” he smiled sincerely.

“Are you okay with it, sweetie?”

Clara's smile was bright and happy “Why wouldn't I be okay with this? I'll get to see you more often and you'll get to come here without worries.” she then turned towards the youngest boy “And you? Are you totally sure about this?” her voice was gentle as a caress and he had to admit how good it was to feel cared fore like that.

“Yes, I couldn't ask for a better arrangement to continue in my research.” he assured with a smile of his own to both women as he went back to the chicken in his plate.

The afternoon went on quietly and Mycroft was sincerely enjoying himself between a nice conversation and another, he particularly liked exercising his Italian with Carlo but, as he and Antonio had to leave, the boy found himself alone on the sofa with Jake just two feet away. He didn't like the feel his gaze gave him and yet he was too polite to get up and go to Tony and the other men who were having a drink at the kitchen counter.

“Mycroft, am I right?” the older boy asked, getting just an inch closer.

He tensed right away and nodded “Yes, and you're Jake.” it wasn't a question and he wished that would be enough and end the interaction.

“Do you like football, Mycroft?” even his voice was unpleasant now to the eldest Holmes' ears.

“No, if I did I would have sat with you and the other men to watch the game earlier.” he tried to be as final as possible, but that didn't stop Jake.

“Oh, you are smart, aren't you?” again he shifted closer but this time Mycroft didn't answer, clutching tight the cup he had drank his coffee from.

“Do you go out for clubs?”

The younger boy shook his head, still silent.

“I do, I could get you admitted in some of those. It'd be fun, you know?”

The boy swallowed hard and shifted towards the armrest, definitely uncomfortable now “No, thank you. That is not really my sort of thing.”

Jake got bolder and almost closed the distance between them, his hand on Mycroft's knee “Oh, I bet it would be after a drink or two.” his voice had dropped an octave and it was almost a purr.

“I'm not eighteen, I can't drink yet and most of all I'm not interested.” was his rather weak answer. He could be more effective than that but he was scared. He didn't know how to respond to such a situation.

And then, before Jake could answer, Greg was tapping on his shoulder “Oi mate. Was he asking for that hand there? Because I don't think so.” he was far more serious than Mycroft had seen him during the whole day. He suddenly looked like a police officer even without his uniform and Jake retracted his hand and got up, a frown on his face that predicted a fight. But Jack was at Greg's side in a moment “Come on, Jake. Not everyone want your cock in their trousers!” he scolded the boy who quickly strode away to the kitchen.

Mycroft stood up, uncomfortable with being the only one sitting and smiled politely to the young man “Thank you, I'm not used to such approaches.”

Greg relaxed visibly, flashing him a bright grin “You're welcome. Next time don't be afraid to just get up and leave though.” he commented “Those who don’t respect you don't deserve your respect.”

Mycroft was rather surprised by the advice and embarrassed by the situation “I... You're right, I guess. I won't let it happen again.”

The older boy nodded and suddenly seemed embarrassed too “Well, that's not what I meant... It wasn't your fault... but, yeah, good. It was nice to have you here, Mycroft. I... well, I hope we'll be seeing you often around here.”

Mycroft clasped his hands behind his back, swinging lightly on the balls of his feet “I think I will be around, yes...”

After that silence fell like none of them knew how to conduct a conversation anymore.

They were both saved by Anne rushing out of the bedroom, already in her blue dress and bringing Mycroft his jacket and tie “We have to go, now! My parents are waiting us for tea in half an hour! Clara and I had fallen asleep!” she exclaimed with utter urgency.

Greg moved aside immediately, but instinctively helped Mycroft in his jacket. Both boys froze when he adjusted the back of his clothing running mindlessly one hand down his spine.

After a second, during which it seemed to the Holmes boy like everyone in the room held their breath, the world started moving at its usual speed again and Mycroft nodded tightly at Greg “I’ll see you next week, I believe.”

The young man scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin “I have a shift on Sunday, but I should be able to pop by for coffee.”

Anne tugged Mycroft by his tie again “Yes, right. Time for lovebirds is over, I’ll see you around Greg.”

The boy blushed again “We weren’t- That wasn’t- No!” he protested, getting even redder when he caught the gaze Clara exchanged with the police officer.

After leaving the house, as they hailed a cab, Mycroft tried to talk to Anne again about what just happened “It wasn’t what you think. It can’t be.” his tone was definitive.

The girl rolled her eyes and slid in the car “Right. Did you know him already?”

He got in after her and shook his head “No, I saw him at the cafe when I met Tony, Miller and Jack but this was the first time we even spoke to each other.”

Anne shot him a knowing look, raising one eyebrow “Ever heard about love at first sight?”

Mycroft sighed heavily “Don’t be ridiculous. Talking about sights. Have you seen him? I strongly doubt I might be of interest to him in any way.” he had just reacted to a nasty situation, it had to be simply an habit by now.

“Oh, you do like him though. Wasn’t this a strictly anthropological research? How was it? About Soho and its tropes?” she smirked, prodding him in the side.

He slapped quickly her hand away, frowning at her “I’m not interested in him. I’m simply stating that an alpha male like he is would never have a reason to be interested in me. And you don’t have to be attracted to him to know that he’s good looking.” his tone had darkened quite a bit, he couldn’t suffer being made fun of, not even in a friendly way like she was doing.

Anne caught the drill and sighed, biting her lower lip lightly before apologizing “All right, I’m sorry Mycroft. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Mycroft nodded and gave her a smile, but stayed quiet for the rest of the ride to her house.


End file.
